


Stand, and Be Heard

by dinojay



Category: Glee
Genre: Klaine, M/M, Political!AU, the possible beginning to something
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-03
Updated: 2013-03-03
Packaged: 2017-12-04 03:40:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/706113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dinojay/pseuds/dinojay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To be a politician, you need to be a predator. Kurt and Blaine are two of a kind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stand, and Be Heard

————————————————————-

There are only three things of which Kurt Hummel can be certain:

1\. He can trust Blaine, and he loves him with all of his being.

2\. Placing trust in anyone else would be a foolhardy way to get stabbed in the back.

3\. People are, at their core, selfish bastards, and if they make mistakes that Kurt can capitalize on? It’s their problem. Those who think their own power is permanent are only asking to be cast down from their thrones.

 

——-

It’s different from the start.

“I don’t want to be the victim anymore,” Kurt says, tearing up, cupping his coffee mug in both hands. “I’m tired of screaming out, only to find that nobody really  _cares_.”

“I care,” Blaine says, his eyes honest as he puts his hand over Kurt’s, “and I know how you feel. I got taunted at my old school, and it really…pissed me off.  Teachers, faculty…they didn’t do a thing. If you want something done, you have to do it yourself. I can help. We can do it. We can stop him, together.”

Kurt looks up, half hopeful, half suspicious. “How?

“Don’t be quiet about it - call him out! Prejudice is just ignorance, Kurt. Ignorance wrapped up in hate, trying to disguise fear. I ran from it, and it has haunted me ever since.”

 Their eyes locked, bloodshot blue-green with fierce hazel. “I’m not running anymore,” Blaine says, firm.

 Kurt shivers.

 His first campaign begins three days later.

Karofsky is expelled, and most of the football team is suspended, within the month. Already, Kurt can feel himself walking with a surety he had never before possessed.

 He already knows that he can trust Blaine, unquestionably.

——-

 There are only three things that Blaine Anderson is certain of:

1\. He can trust Kurt, and he loves him with all of his heart.

2\. Giving too much of himself to anyone else is only a sure way to get his heart broken.

3\. There are people in this world who have been stepped on by every higher power they have ever been given, who cannot help themselves - and it is his job to help them.

——-

Blaine is only sixteen, and his heart has been broken many times before: by his parents, by his school system, by his former friends and prejudiced hometown and by boys with floppy hair and boys with baseball bats. 

His heart breaks when he gives too much of it, when he doles it out like free samples in a grocery store for everyone around him to consume and then discard - leaving him with nothing.

It isn’t until his junior year that he learns how to  _perform_.

True actors do not give out their heart every night on stage. Their heart is locked up in a chest, safe from critics and catcallers and knives of all kinds. True actors remember every swell their heart has ever made, every dip and rise, and can call those feelings up whenever necessary. 

But their hearts do not break in the process.

In his junior year, Blaine watches as his boyfriend performs in front of the entire school.  He’s not singing or dancing - he’s only speaking. He’s defending himself from the misguided jabs of others, and striking back - tearing down the false promises of unicorns and rainbows, sticking a spear into the body of homophobia and ignorance and uncovering the truth that everyone at this school is angry, is hiding, is  _performing_  to protect themselves. 

He  _calls them out._

And somehow - somehow - wins the election, his face beautiful at the realization that he can finally  _change something._

He collapses in Blaine’s arms later, shaking from exertion, from the residual fear that he would be ignored, from  _triumph._

“That was the biggest performance of my life,” he says, his voice shallow, almost on the verge of tears.

“You didn’t look scared at all, though - you looked  _fierce_.  _Fearless_.” His voice is full of pride, his fingers running gently through Kurt’s hair.

“You can’t let them see that you’re afraid; that’s when they’ll turn against you.” He reaches up, and pulls Blaine down for a kiss. “They’ll never see me afraid again. You’re the only one who gets to see me like this.” His mouth is certain, but his eyes are still frightened at the prospect of it.

“It’s the same for me, with you, you know,” Blaine says, his fingers drifting over Kurt’s cheek. Kurt laughs - strained, open-hearted, doubting his own power. 

But Kurt protects his heart with a castle and a gate and an iron key, as fierce a guard as a fire-breathing dragon.

Blaine couldn’t ask for more.

——-

They win one election.

Then another.

Then another.

They run Burt’s campaign, two teenagers in a basement with picket signs and e-mail blasts and articles forwarded to the Huffington Post. They get three city council members elected, another two for the school board; they make certain they have allies in every class council and every major club’s board.

Kurt gets into NYU’s political science program.

Blaine wins the student council presidency his senior year - and leads the Glee Club, and the school newspaper, and the local Young Democrats chapter. He says he likes to keep busy.

Kurt receives several LGBTQ scholarships, rules the Washington Square News, and he overtakes the Law Review before his junior year. He watches as employer after employer tries to court him, with promises of meeting Senators and activism on the streets of DC and salaries beyond what he can quite comprehend - but he accepts none of them. He bides his time, and with Blaine by his side, he waits.

Blaine receives a full scholarship to Columbia, born of his personal essay (“I am no longer a victim,”) and his beefed-up resume (“I was trying to keep busy!”) which Kurt gives him grief for, but only jokingly.

When they start living together starting Blaine’s freshman year. They aren’t afraid.

When Kurt starts work at a law firm, and Blaine starts interning with the HRC, they aren’t afraid.

When they graduate, hand in hand, from  Columbia’s law school, they aren’t afraid.

When they challenge the Republican incumbents of the 4th and 12th districts of Ohio, almost immediately after their graduation, they aren’t afraid.

They are only  _ready._   

——-

“How does it feel,” Kurt asks, feeding Blaine a grape from his plate, “to be the youngest current Representative in Congress?” 

Blaine chews for a moment, and smiles slyly from his place draped across Kurt’s lap. “How does it feel to be the second youngest?” he asks in return, leaning up to place a kiss at the corner of Kurt’s mouth. Their tuxes are strewn across the room, Blaine’s discarded white shirt piled on Kurt’s pants in the corner. The only light on their bare skin now is the colored glare of the television, where Rachel Maddow is speaking with the volume low, balloons pouring down in a ballroom in the corner video of her screen.

“Powerful,” Kurt says, grinning like a shark.

“ _Sexy_ ,” Blaine replies, and they crash together again.

_“Today, in a nearly miraculous upset in the state of Ohio, longtime gay couple Kurt Hummel and Blaine Anderson have defeated the Republican incumbents, Ralph Kern and Francis McDowell, in the fourth and twelfth districts, making them the two youngest current Representatives, at 28 and 27 respectively, and are now the first openly gay couple to serve in the House….”_

_——-_

“And why, Congressman Shapiro, would you be looking for our vote?” Blaine asks, sitting in the high-backed leather chair behind his office desk. Kurt stands behind him, leaning one elbow on the back of the chair and smirking as he takes a sip of whiskey.  He hands the glass down to Blaine, who does the same, his eyebrow still quirked.

Congressman Shapiro is a short, grey-eyed man in an ill-fitting suit; they knew at first glance that this was a man who was better suited to back-room deals than town hall meetings. “This vote cannot fail. It’s necessary for the continued performance of the Party - we have to deliver on the promises that we made to the labor unions at the start of this campaign.” 

 ”So why are you looking for  _us_? It must mean you need votes,” Kurt says, leaning over Blaine’s chair with more of his weight now. “After all, you know that if you can convince one of us, you can probably convince both of us.”

“Well, as you know,” Shapiro places his next words carefully,  ”the general feeling towards labor unions in this country right now are not…what we’d like. Many of your fellow Congressman have chosen to renege on their promises to the unions. They will be…dealt with. But the two of you have the chance to start your relationships with the unions anew -“

“We already have a working relationship with the unions,” Blaine says. “How could we not, as Representatives of Ohio…? But that’s not what we’re talking about here.”

“There are several amendments in that bill that seem particularly  _fatty_ ,” Kurt says, his gaze razor-sharp. “Tell us why we should be working with you to keep those parts in, rather than cutting them out.” 

“Well,” Shapiro replies, sweating a little as he reaches down to pick up his briefcase; obviously not expecting to be called out this early in the conversation, particularly not by men so young-looking. “We have a few options, a few ways that we might…sweeten the deal, so that you may be inclined to vote with your party.” He clicked open the locks on either side of the briefcase’s top.

“We’re listening,” they say, simultaneously.

Their grins are identical.

Shapiro gulps.

——-

“Why, exactly, do they refer to me as The Fox?” Kurt asks, scrolling through another article on his ipad. He’s wearing only a white robe as he loungs in his grey fabric in their bedroom, his legs crossing at the knee, his one foot deep in the white plush carpet. His coffee is still steaming hot, resting on their night table.  “I mean, it’s flattering that they think I’m cunning, but orange hardly looks good on anyone - least of all me.”

“I would say you were a silver fox, but you’re too young for that and I don’t want to get hit this early in the morning,” Blaine says from the bathroom, his face half-covered with shaving foam. “At least you aren’t The Hound. They make it sound like I’m that obnoxious neighborhood dog, that keeps everyone up by howling in the middle of the night.”

“Sounds about right,” Kurt teases, and Blaine pouts at him.

“But seriously. Couldn’t they have picked something a little more frightening? We have a reputation to uphold. It doesn’t exactly help when bloggers refer to us as late-eighties Disney cartoon characters.”

“Looks can be deceiving,” Blaine says, running a towel over his face and sauntering towards Kurt. He straddles his hips, grinning. “Besides, I like it when our public image keeps us looking nice and friendly. Helps us with our constituents.”

“What, so you like it when the public thinks of us as the sweet fox and the adorable puppy, rather than two Congressman who fought their way onto the forefront of the Education, Foreign Policy, Rules and Ethics Committees before the end of their second terms?”

“Well, we’ll keep it nice with the constituents,” Blaine says, biting at Kurt’s lower lip, “But the rest of Congress isn’t about to forget that foxes and hounds are  _predators._ We have teeth,” he nips at Kurt’s jaw again, “and we know how to use them.”

Kurt chuckles into their next kiss before it turns furious, all canines and sucked-lips and tongue, their breath growing heavy. “We have that fundraiser tonight,” Kurt mumbles between kisses. “You can’t give me a hickey this time.”

“That’s what concealer is for, babe,” Blaine whispers, smirking, before leaning down to bite at Kurt’s collarbone. 

“Oh, Congressman, you are  _bad_ ,” Kurt says, before they both go quiet once more.

The coffee goes cold.

——-

“ _AND YOU MUST ASK YOURSELF - ARE YOU VOTING FOR THE SAKE OF YOURSELF? FOR THE SAKE YOUR TOWN? FOR YOUR CITY, YOUR COUNTRY, YOUR EARTH? FOR THE BETTERMENT OF YOUR FELLOW MAN?_

_OR ARE YOU VOTING FOR THE STATUS QUO, BECAUSE THAT IS THE WAY YOU HAVE ALWAYS DONE, AND IT WAS THE WAY YOUR FATHER VOTED, AND HIS FATHER, AND HIS FATHER’S FATHER?”_

**_“NO!”_ **

_“OR ARE YOU VOTING THE WAY THAT YOUR PREACHER TOLD YOU TO, BECAUSE HE THINKS THAT YOU WILL VOTE LIKE SHEEP IN A FLOCK, BECAUSE HE BELIEVES THAT YOU ARE NOT COMPETENT ENOUGH TO KNOW WHAT YOUR GOD WANTS THIS WORLD TO BECOME?”_

**_“NO!”_ **

_“OR ARE YOU VOTING BECAUSE SOME BIGSHOT ON TALK RADIO TOLD YOU THAT THE GAYS WERE OUT TO RECRUIT YOU, THAT THE LATINOS WERE INVADING, THAT THE BLACKS WERE RUINING THE SYSTEM, THAT THE ASIANS WERE TAKING OVER, AND THAT ANYONE WHO WASN’T RICH ENOUGH OR PALE ENOUGH OR STRAIGHT ENOUGH WASN’T GOOD ENOUGH TO HAVE A VALID OPINION, AND SHOULD BE FEARED OR OUTCAST, AND THAT THE DOWNTRODDEN SHOULD STAY DOWNTRODDEN?”_

**_“NO!!!”_ **

_“I WANT YOU TO TURN TOWARDS THE BIGOTS, AND TEACH THEM THEIR IGNORANCE! I WANT YOU TO TURN TOWARDS THE HATE, AND TEACH LOVE AND UNDERSTANDING! I WANT YOU TO TURN TOWARDS THOSE WHO WOULD SILENCE YOU, AND SPEAK LOUDLY, AND CALL THEM OUT - SO THAT THEY MAY **KNOW**  THAT YOU HAVE A VOICE!”_

_“I WANT YOU TO TURN TOWARDS THE FUTURE, AND LOOK IT IN THE EYE, AND **DEMAND**  THAT IT BE BETTER THAN TODAY!  **STAND, AND BE HEARD**!”_

The crowd explodes in noise, and Senatorial candidate Kurt Hummel holds his arms out towards them in triumph, their voices carrying him away on a sea of sound. Congressman Blaine Anderson, leader of the Education committee, stands behind him, his smile wide, whooping to the heavens.

They are one step closer. 


End file.
